Dec. 18th, 2020

greenstorm: (Default)
Here we are. Solstice.

It's a couple days until the actual night, but I'm in that liminal space now. This is, finally, the dark fertile peace. It's the rest before germination. Everything before was just inputs, ready to be broken down into the new year's growth.

I never sleep well before I load animals. Loading took a couple days (as it should, to be gentlest on them and to stress them least). The big one was the geese: I put their food and water in the doorway to the woodshed lean-to and then went outside a couple times during the day to walk them into the lean-to. Then I closed the lean-to door behind me and shuttled them into the woodshed, a batch at a time. I only got just over half in there, but there were enough of the ones I wanted to send 12 to the abattoir.

That was day 1. They needed to be kept without food for day 2, then in the evening Tucker helped me load them up into crates. The workflow was as follows: I went into the woodshed with a headlamp, the geese flocked away from me and scrambled themselves into a corner, I caught the ones that were going (mixed or mismarked), and carried them one by one into crates while Tucker closed and opened the many doors (including crate and woodshed door) involved.

Choosing is always the hard part for me. Choosing from scared geese late at night, the night before slaughter: that's very hard. And geese are hard because I love them and think they're so beautiful. I mean, I love my pigs and think they look neat with their spots and mohawks, but it's not quite the same.

So then day 3 I drove to Telkwa and back (google says it's 3.5 hours of straight driving to get there. Add a trailer, a bit of slush on the roads, and stopping for gas and I left at 7am and got home just after 5pm). I saw the abattoir for the first time: it had friendly competent-seeming people, it was tidy and looked well-run. It felt like a real neighbourhood place, that is, it was smallish, with maybe 5 people there, and there were geese, rabbits, ducks, and roosters waiting in line. I would not have trusted my little ones anywhere else.

More aside about the abattoir: it's a huge incentive to move to that area. Having folks who are polite, responsive, flexible, take all animals, and do things the old way makes such a difference. I also, while I was unloading, felt acute envy for the folks who worked there. I so miss working with my hands, doing an actual physical job, turning one thing into something else (all creation is just repurposing), being out in the sunshine and open air. I am dead sure that job could not pay my bills but more and more I want it. And, I suppose, less and less do I want to be in charge of a place like that.

So anyhow, I didn't sleep well for several days because loading took several days. I should remember that I can't back the trailer into my driveway at night after a long day (or several days): I tried several times before driving around the block and nosing in. This was Ron's trailer, so it's much more responsive than the double axle I've been driving and it just kept jackknifing. This time I quit before I backed it into the ditch at least.

Today I need to put the trailer somewhere reasonable, likely back it out and back it back in (hello, language) and then on Monday/Tuesday (over close to actual solstice) Tucker and I will drive out in his little car and pick up the processed animals. We'll stay in a hotel overnight, pick up some sushi, and maybe look at some mountains or waterfalls or properties for sale.

I'll make some prosciutto out of the breasts of some of those geese, or some smoked spickgans-style hams. I'll confit some of the bodies and likely can those. Some I will keep whole, and roast over the coming year. None of these have the demanding load on my attention that rounding up animals for either slaughter or sale does: this is mostly rest.

I still have quail and many chickens to process but plan to do that on my own time, it doesn't have a deadline. It's not rest, but it's not looming.

The hard part is done. Now comes putting things in order.

Now and forever is the time to honour and mourn the hard part.

It feels like rest.
greenstorm: (Default)
Here we are. Solstice.

It's a couple days until the actual night, but I'm in that liminal space now. This is, finally, the dark fertile peace. It's the rest before germination. Everything before was just inputs, ready to be broken down into the new year's growth.

I never sleep well before I load animals. Loading took a couple days (as it should, to be gentlest on them and to stress them least). The big one was the geese: I put their food and water in the doorway to the woodshed lean-to and then went outside a couple times during the day to walk them into the lean-to. Then I closed the lean-to door behind me and shuttled them into the woodshed, a batch at a time. I only got just over half in there, but there were enough of the ones I wanted to send 12 to the abattoir.

That was day 1. They needed to be kept without food for day 2, then in the evening Tucker helped me load them up into crates. The workflow was as follows: I went into the woodshed with a headlamp, the geese flocked away from me and scrambled themselves into a corner, I caught the ones that were going (mixed or mismarked), and carried them one by one into crates while Tucker closed and opened the many doors (including crate and woodshed door) involved.

Choosing is always the hard part for me. Choosing from scared geese late at night, the night before slaughter: that's very hard. And geese are hard because I love them and think they're so beautiful. I mean, I love my pigs and think they look neat with their spots and mohawks, but it's not quite the same.

So then day 3 I drove to Telkwa and back (google says it's 3.5 hours of straight driving to get there. Add a trailer, a bit of slush on the roads, and stopping for gas and I left at 7am and got home just after 5pm). I saw the abattoir for the first time: it had friendly competent-seeming people, it was tidy and looked well-run. It felt like a real neighbourhood place, that is, it was smallish, with maybe 5 people there, and there were geese, rabbits, ducks, and roosters waiting in line. I would not have trusted my little ones anywhere else.

More aside about the abattoir: it's a huge incentive to move to that area. Having folks who are polite, responsive, flexible, take all animals, and do things the old way makes such a difference. I also, while I was unloading, felt acute envy for the folks who worked there. I so miss working with my hands, doing an actual physical job, turning one thing into something else (all creation is just repurposing), being out in the sunshine and open air. I am dead sure that job could not pay my bills but more and more I want it. And, I suppose, less and less do I want to be in charge of a place like that.

So anyhow, I didn't sleep well for several days because loading took several days. I should remember that I can't back the trailer into my driveway at night after a long day (or several days): I tried several times before driving around the block and nosing in. This was Ron's trailer, so it's much more responsive than the double axle I've been driving and it just kept jackknifing. This time I quit before I backed it into the ditch at least.

Today I need to put the trailer somewhere reasonable, likely back it out and back it back in (hello, language) and then on Monday/Tuesday (over close to actual solstice) Tucker and I will drive out in his little car and pick up the processed animals. We'll stay in a hotel overnight, pick up some sushi, and maybe look at some mountains or waterfalls or properties for sale.

I'll make some prosciutto out of the breasts of some of those geese, or some smoked spickgans-style hams. I'll confit some of the bodies and likely can those. Some I will keep whole, and roast over the coming year. None of these have the demanding load on my attention that rounding up animals for either slaughter or sale does: this is mostly rest.

I still have quail and many chickens to process but plan to do that on my own time, it doesn't have a deadline. It's not rest, but it's not looming.

The hard part is done. Now comes putting things in order.

Now and forever is the time to honour and mourn the hard part.

It feels like rest.

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